Saving Tortall
by IamPetra
Summary: Tusaine, Scanra, and Galla have united to destroy Tortall. And the only one who can save Tortall? A girl with a bad attitude who wants nothing to do with the nation.
1. A Chance at Revenge

Tamora Pierce owns all the characters _except _the ones you don't recognize. Oh, and the plots mine too.

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A Chance at Revenge

Chapter One

The forest stood around me, green and a bit wet. I walked slowly by myself; my bare feet brushed over the moss that covered the forest floor. A pack hung from my back, a pair of curve-back knives in my hand. It was time to move on, once again. I had been noticed.

I came upon a lake in the middle of the forest. The clear blue water showed my reflection as I looked into it. A girl with bright blue eyes stared back at me. Short silver hair that was normally hidden beneath a hood shone brightly in the sunlight. Her dark brown cloak lay over her dirtied shirt and breeches. Her face would have been considered pretty, except for the three scars that ran down her face. One was from her right temple to the right corner of her mouth; the other two ran parallel on the left side of her chin. Her frame was thin, her body lean from the running that consumed her life.

Ripples overtook the picture, and sound of hoof beats reached my ears. I turned, only to see a group of armored knights galloping towards me. _Oh, just great._

I took off running, my legs carrying me towards the nearest tree. I jumped, catching the first branch, and climbed as fast as I could.

After gaining a far amount of tree in between the ground and myself, I looked down. The riding party was below me, helmets off, and looking up.

"Come down." One of the riders called in a loud, bellowing voice.

"Hmmmmmmm…" I turned my head on its side, appearing to consider it. "No." The word was short and loud.

"We need to speak with you."

"You're speaking with me now."

He made an agitated noise, while a red head knight snickered. "Would you please just come down?"

I raised an eyebrow. "I already told you 'no'."

I think I heard him growl. "Come down in the name of the King!"

I made a disbelieving noise and laughed loudly. "I think I'm going to answer to a king that's done nothing but make my life a living rat's hole?" I gave a thoughtful look. "Wow. You really are stupid."

"WHY YOU!" He was cut off as a female voice rose above his.

"Vayga." My body went rigid. I hadn't heard that word is ten years. "We real-"

"How do you know my name?" My voice was soft but tense; my hands shook.

"Vay-"

"HOW DO YOU KNOW MY NAME?" It was a cracked bellow.

The blonde knight sighed. "The King told me everything about you." She looked earnestly back at me. "He'd very much like to speak with you."

"Your king can rot for all I care! So just leave! I won't do it!" I turned my back on them, deciding if I could jump into the next tree. The group grew oddly silent, but there was no sound of moving horses.

Suspicious, I turned. I yelled as a huge orange cloud enveloped me. And then it was black.

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"She's coming to, Your Highness." The world was a huge fuzz ball, blurry and black. _Your Highness…Your Highness…THE KING!_

I jerked hands to my belt, reaching for the curve-back knives, only to find them gone. My head shot up, the monarch of Tortall standing before me.

Rage filled my veins and I lunged at him, but was pulled back by a pair of hands. A snarl was on my lips, and I fought the hands, wanting no more than to gut King Jonathon.

But the hands won. I pressed into the chair, and couldn't move.

The king blinked, but smiled. "She's the fiery type, isn't she?"

I merely growled, "Let me out of this chair, and I'll show you how fiery I am when I strangle you."

His eyes widened. "Now why would you want to do that?"

"You killed my family. You let them die, you scum bag." I could feel myself shake uncontrollably. "You will meet their fate."

"I did not kill your fam-" He started.

"YOU LET THEM DIE! THAT IS MURDER!" I screamed, totally losing any control I might have had.

"Keladry! Stick her in a room where she can't get out! She's not going to listen right now!" He yelled over top of my ranting.

And that same pair of hands that held me back, drug me away from my chance at revenge.


	2. Of a Prophecy and Denial

Disclaimer: I don't own the recognizable characters...but I do own the plot and Vayga, and all the other characters that I decide must be in this little world...(smiles sneakily.)(well...almost sneakily.)

WildSong: It takes place close to 13 years after the Scanran war.

FanFictionFantom: Kel isn't blonde in thebooks(or at least I never thought that) but lately she's been in the desert training. And the sun bleached her hair.

Thank you to my reviewers!

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Of a Prophecy and DenialChapter Two 

I glared at the room around; not that is was displeasing, no. But because it was his. The King's. Purple tapestries covered the walls; golden rugs, the floor. A bed that could hold three _horses _was pushed against the wall.

I sat in the one corner of the lavish room that did not have a piece of furniture in it. Fuming couldn't quite describe my mood. That knight Keladry had dragged me into the room. And locked me in. Having never really had a home, or been in actual rooms, this caused great discomfort for me. And there was no way out that I could find.

Six hours and counting. I wondered when I'd be let out of the room. It had to round twilight.

Suddenly, a small noise reached my ears. Could it be?

The door creaked open slowly as I fumbled to my feet. I rushed at a door that had admitted an enormously tall man, but the door closed and locked before I could escape through it.

Frustrated, and anger like mad, I slammed my fists against the unyielding wood over and over again. Soon, I could no longer feel my hands and arms. Defeated, I sank to the floor, and finally paid attention to the tall man. His skin and eyes were dark, and his long back hair had a streak of gray in it.

He stared at me, a confused and disbelieving look on his face. "You're a little girl…" His voice was breathy.

"I'm a young woman, bub." I crossed my arms over my chest from where I sat on the floor. "Who are you, and what do you want?" I glared at him, none to happy that he was here.

"Numair Salmalin." He snapped out of his dazed and confused expression. "I'm here to tell you a story."

"I'm not a child, Mr. Salmalin. Take your story elsewhere."

His face hardened. "You're a brusque one, aren't you? And no, I can't take my story elsewhere. You have to listen."

"_Fine, Mr. Salmalin. _Get on with it."

An ancient looking book suddenly appeared in his hands. He opened it, stirring a layer of dust on the pages. And he read, _"Three nations will unite. A bloody war will ensue. The bloodiest known to mankind. The silver one will appear, on them is the balance. They are the only one able to win this war."_ He stopped and looked up.

"Oh, very interesting, Mr. Salmalin." My voice dripped with sarcasm.

"There's more. _The silver one will carry the three marks upon their face. The three marks make the old symbol Fallen Star, in which their name means. The silver one will be alone, and carry the curved swords." _I stared at the floor.

_What was he playing at? Three marks…Fallen Star…No! I refuse to believe this pile of horse manure! _

"Vayga, have you ever wondered why no one would help you when your family was dying?"

My eyes never left the floor. "Shut up." It was low, a whisper.

"Have you ever wondered, Vayga, why no one would take you in?"

"Shut up." I arose to my feet, my fists balled in anger. But my eyes never left the floor.

"We couldn't intervene, Vayga. We couldn't change what was meant to-"

"SHUT UP!" I yelled, my eyes finally rising. The suddenly silver air around me snapped with electricity. "Get out. I refuse to hear any more from you." My voice wavered with rage.

"Vayga, you're in denial-"

"GET OUT!" The silver air shot at Numair, one tendril drawing a line of blood on his cheek. He touched the blood on his cheek, eyes widening, and silently left.

I sank to the floor, my knees no longer able to hold me. I stared at my hands, which were covered in silver dust.

I looked down at my clothes, then the floor around me. Silver dust. _Could it be true? Could what Numair said be true? Could I be this silver one? The Fallen Star? No. Absolutely not. It's not true, Vayga! IT'S NOT TRUE!_


	3. Wondering and Accepting

I'm sorry it took me so long to update. Please don't hurt me. (covers head)

Disclaimer: Do I really need to write this yet again? (sighs) Alright...I own the plot and my own characters. Tamora Pierce owns the rest. (looks none too happy)

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Wondering and Accepting

Chapter Three

It had been a week. Everyday Numair came and tried to convince me that I'm this supposed silver one who's going to save Tortall from a bloody end. And everyday, I would scream at him to get out. He always brought up my past. He always brought up the fact that I've been alone for eleven years of my life.

And everyday I stopped and wondered. Could he be telling the truth? Really, what did he have to gain if this was all a lie? It didn't make sense for him to lie so persistently to me. And yet, if it was truth, then it was impossible to swallow. Me? Save Tortall? I wanted nothing more than to murder their king for what he had done to me. Why would I be their only hope of survival?

There was the familiar squeak of the door, but I didn't turn toward Numair. I debated on just screaming at him to get out, but decided against it today.

"Vayga?" That was _not _Numair. The voice was distinctly female.

Confused, I turned to see a woman with long, curly brown hair and blue gray eyes standing in front of the closed door. A book sat in her scarred, tanned hands. Sparrows sat on her shoulders, and the little creatures stared curiously at me. There was something unnerving about their gaze, something almost human. I suppressed a shudder, as the woman spoke once again.

"Vayga? I'm Daine. Would you l-"

"You're Numair's wife, aren't you?" My voice was emotionless and dead, uncaring.

She blinked. "Yes. Yes, I am." She paused. "How'd you know that?" There was surprise in her voice, but also a little fear.

Slowly, I stood, my knees cracking on the way up. I drew back the hood of my cloak, allowing her to see my face for the first time. I placed my hands under the cloak, and looked her straight in the eyes. "You're giving me the exact same look that he's been giving me for the past week. A look of pity, of wonder," I paused, "of fear." I turned my back to her. "Please leave." I nearly hit myself over the head. _What are you thinking, you dolt! You have no reason to be polite to her! YOU HAVE NO REASON! _

"Uh…alright, I'll leave. But Vayga, please, just look at this book. It'll clear a lot of things up for you." And she left.

I stood there a little while longer, before my curiosity got the better of me. Stupid curiosity. A heavy leather bound book sat near the door. From the looks of it, it was ancient, looking to be as old as the gods. I picked it up, my palms warming the hard leather.

Upon opening it, a small cloud of dust arose, and I sneezed roughly, my whole body coming forward, my forehead hit the book, making me bite my tongue.

Blood in my mouth, I looked warily at the first page, only to find that the book was, well, written in a different language. More than just slightly irritated, I flipped through the pages, seeing on symbol repeating constantly. The symbol was identical to the scars on my face.

I threw the pages forward, not really looking at them anymore. But I stopped as a blur of color caught my eye. I flipped that page opened, and the blood froze in my veins.

_It was me. _There was a picture of me. The details were perfect. And the scene…it was so familiar. It was of a year ago, when I found a tree with blue foliage. Except one thing was off about the picture. The color of my cloak, the length of my hair; it was exact. But as I leaned closer to the picture, I saw the hand that was reaching for the azure leaves, well, that hand was terribly scarred.

Slowly my blood thawed, and slowly, very slowly, I accepted it in my mind. _I was this supposed silver one. I was supposed to save Tortall. _My head went to my hands.

"Oh great." I whispered.


	4. Enter the Prince

Disclaimer: I don't own the recongizable characters.

Sorry for the long wait. I have self-discipline issues.

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Enter the Prince

Chapter Four

Three weeks had passed. Three weeks of being in that room. Three weeks of them trying to decide what to do with me, without my say. And then it finally came to them. 'Vayga needs to be trained.' Great. Just peachy.

Today was my first day of training. I dressed in my own clothes, not the clothes that were set out for me. My breeches were worn at the knees, and my tunic was torn, but I refused to wear the clothes that were so finely made to suit me. I hung my knives from their spot in my belt, and waited for my escort. I was not permitted to walk around by myself; they were afaird I'd run off, which, if I got the chance, I would try.

A knock came from my door, and a young man appeared. His eyes ran up and down my frame, as mine did the same.

Pale blue eyes took me in from behind curly black hair. He was tall, far taller than I was. His skin was pale, but still darker than mine. His blue tunic was simple, but clearly finely made. The shirt accented his eyes, and made them appear to be ablaze. There was an interested and skeptical look in his eyes when they finally looked into mine. He appeared to be bored.

"Who the heck are you?" I didn't try to my irritation, and the man raised an eyebrow.

"Prince Jonathon the Second, youngest son of His Majesty King Jonathon of Conte." There was such arrogance in his voice, that I wanted nothing more than to hit him.

"Well, excuse me, _Your Majesty_. You probably expect me to at least ask your forgiveness for speaking so rudely to the future king of Tortall, but let's get something straight right now. _I answer to no one. _That includes your father, and you. So from now on, I suggest that you don't take that tone of supposed superiority with me. I am armed, and my temper is not one to take lightly."

Throughout my little speech, Jonathon's eyes got darker and darker with anger. "Is that a threat?"

"Yes, I believe that's what such things are called nowadays." Sarcasm ran down from each word.

"I would challenge you to a duel had you not been a girl." He turned to go out the door.

"To scared that I'd win?" I taunted. His head snapped around, and his eyes were absolutely on fire with rage.

"To the practice courts." A muscle in his jaw was twitching.

"Gladly."

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Ten minutes later, we stood in the practice courts, shoes off, weapons drawn. My curve-backs where in my hands, and I stood completely still in stance. Jonathon's sword hung limply at his side as he paced, obviously trying to figure the best way to attack.

Our weapon choices made it hard to fight in the usual way. Swords were meant for farther range than knives. He could lunge for me, but then there was the chance that he'd miss, and then I'd have an opening to strike.

It was strange how silent we were. We just stared at each other, contemplating on how to attack.

Jonathon lost his patience. He made a lightening fast lunge at my shoulder. I managed to roll my shoulder enough that he missed, and brought one of my knives up, but I wasn't quick enough. Instead of leaving a nice scratch on his cheek, I took off a lock of his onyx hair.

We broke away for a second before coming back together. There was the clash of steel on steel that rang through the courts as we blocked each other's attacks.

Then the window of opportunity. Jonathon thrust a little too far off to the side. I caught the sword's blade in between the hilt and blade of my knife, and twisted. The sword's blade shattered near the hilt, only leaving four inches of it.

But then disaster struck, in the seconds it took to shatter his blade, Jonathon had me pinned against his chest with one arm, the other holding broken sword to my throat.

"Do you yield?" His breath came out violently, stirring the hair in my face. I lifted my face up to his, and slowly repositioned my knives in my hands. My arms were pinned in between our bodies, but now the points were digging into his ribcage. Surprise flashed in his eyes when he realized what had changed.

"I believe we are at a draw." I lowered my face, because it was starting to hurt to crane my neck so far to see his face. My eyes were level with the base of his throat. "Let go of me, and I'll step back." And his arm was gone from my back, and I took my space…and looked around for the first time.

Apparently we had gathered a crowd during our fight. Dozens of people stood along the borders of the court, looking a bit shocked.

"You're fair surprising." Jonathon said quietly as he picked up the remains of his sword from the ground. And when he looked back up at me, there was interest in his eyes, and curiosity. And truth be told, I wasn't sure if I liked that any better than the bored I had seen earlier. "Anyway, I was supposed to escort you to the training grounds, and I believe we're late."

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Author's Note: Prince Roald died in battle, the other prince(for the life of me, I can't remember his name) doesn't want the crown. That'll come up later in the story.

And the curve-backed knives are in the same of an upside down u. The hilt is on one side, and the blade is along the outside.

And a big THANK YOU to my reviewers! 'Love you guys!


	5. And Training Begins

Disclaimer: Blah blah blah...you know how it goes.

Hey, I got this one up fairly quickly!

THANK YOU to my reviewers!

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And Training BeginsChapter Five 

I couldn't help but scowl as we drew near the training grounds. Dozens of boys, and a few girls, were practicing staff combat. I couldn't understand why these people would willingly take orders from a training master. I looked at the back of the man that would try to turn me into some sort of a knight. _Try. _That's the key word. I was bound and determined to be as free as I had been a month ago.

Suddenly that tower of a man turned. Curly black hair and black eyes to match lit upon us. Though the training master's face was a ruddy and seemingly happy one, there was a forced hardness in his eyes.

"Jonathon." There was a booming voice like thunder that came from the enormous man's throat. "You're late."

Jonathon ran his hand through his hair in such a childish manner, that I was surprised my mouth didn't fall open. "We had to settle an argument." He turned to me as if to say, 'Tell him what happened,' but when caught the look on my face, his own turned stony and returned to the training master. "It won't happen again, sir."

"Good." Then those black eyes turned to me. They took in my form, and the eyebrows lowered, confused. "Who is this you brought with you, Jonathon?"

Jonathon's eyes flickered to me before he stepped to the side. "Training Master Raoul, may I present Vayga…"

"Sharron…" I hadn't spoken that word in so long, that I almost didn't remember it.

"Sharron…she's the girl my father informed you about." Raoul's eyes lit up slightly, and inspected me further. When his eyes finally reached my face, there was a scowl upon it.

"I really don't appreciate being inspected like a horse on the verge of being sold." It was totally monotone and cold.

What little light had appeared in the training master's eyes disappeared. "Well." His lip curled slightly. "Someone doesn't seem to know to respect her betters."

And I smiled a smile so sweet I was almost sick. "Maybe I have no reason to respect my supposed betters. And maybe, just maybe, I don't want to be here." I crossed my arms and took on a thoughtful look. "Or maybe I just wish your king a painful and soon end? I'm beginning to think that it's all three of them. What do you think, _Milord Prince_?" I looked at Jonathon, and saw the slack jaw and wide eyes. And all the pages and squires within earshot had the same expression. I stepped closer to Raoul, and lowered my voice slightly. "Let's get one thing straight here before we go any further. I don't want to be here. And you shouldn't very well want me here either. But I have to be here. You are a training master. You give orders and expect them followed. I have gone ten years without people in my life. I take orders from no one. You leave me alone, and I'll cause as little trouble as I know how."

All throughout my little speech, Raoul's face became redder and redder with anger, and he spoke in a tight voice. "You do know that I can have you locked in a room again with one spoken word."

"But you wouldn't. Let's face it. You need me here. _Your nation_ needs me here." Raoul's jaw clenched, but I knew that my words hit home.

"What do you know when it comes to weapons?"

"I know curve-backs."

"How well?"

"Instead of being taught to read and write as a child, I was taught knives." I scowled. "It's all I know. They were the only things that have kept me alive for all these years."

"And how are you against someone armed with a longer weapon?"

"Ask your prince. We fought before we came. I shattered his sword, and could have very well gutted him." I turned to Jonathon. The look on his face clearly stated that he couldn't believe this was happening.

"Go practice stave work. Jonathon will teach you." He turned to go.

"I don't use other weapons." Raoul's shoulders visibly tensed, and he turned back.

And through clenched teeth, "You might lose your weapons in battle."

"I don't lose my weapons."

"Fine. Just-just go spar with Jonathon then."

And thus training began.

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I was reminded by FanFictionFantom that there are actually three princes in the book, and that King Jonathon is actually the III or IV. But, let's just pretend that those other two princes were never there, and we'll just leave Prince Jonathon as the II because I like the way it sounds. (smiles coyly)


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